You're Guaranteed To Run This Town
by Scorpiofreak
Summary: In Victorian London, Lady Alice Liddell, former protege of magician the Amazing Aster Bunnymund, is the greatest magician in all of London. No one can measure up to her talent until an up-and-coming American magician, Jackson "Jack Frost" Overland, rolls into town with a mindblowing show that threatens to outshine Alice's. ROTG/AMR Crossover AU, Three-parts.


**AN: I got this idea from watching the Christopher Nolan movie, "The Prestige", starring Hugh Jackman(Bunny!) and Christian Bale. It does share some elements, such as a rivalry between two magicians and a lot of the featured magic tricks, but I did try to keep things original. So far, I have three parts planned for this short AU and once I run through those, I'll probably set the story status to complete.**

 **Background info: This AU takes place soon after the events of Alice: Madness Returns, which have happened but they don't play a very active part in the plot, and neither does Wonderland. Everyone is human. In later parts, I'll have to make Jack and Alice older than the ages they're immortalized as in Winter Wonderland (Jack 18, Alice 19) just because they're human.**

 **Suggested theme to this AU story - Yes ~ Chromatics (Love theme from the movie "Lost River")**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians or Alice: Madness Returns.**

* * *

 _~ London, England 1875 - East End ~_

It had been many a night since the rundown theater in London's East End had seen such a turnout. The floorboards of the humdrum establishment groaned with protest under the pressure of the crowd piling into the open showroom from the dingy atrium.

It was a small theater with narrow walkways and damp-streaked walls with curling wallpaper, but the patrons still bustled through the main doors with vivid excitement as they talked amongst themselves in low voices. The house lights shined above them, allowing the audience to easily navigate the aisles and settle into their seats. The theater ushers guided people along with their torches, encouraging them to take their seats so the show could begin. There was a soft hum that reverberated off the walls of the auditorium, consisting of voices and instruments being tuned from the orchestra stall down by the far right corner of the stage. Bracketing the large stage were two show posters hanging down from the rafters of the theater, depicting the highly anticipated performance that would be shown that night.

As soon as every seat was filled and the ushers signaled the stagehands on standby, the house lights dimmed overhead before completely shutting off with an echoing click, shrouding the audience in darkness until a spotlight beamed to life and the footlights flipped on in suit, illuminating the stage. All was silent as the audience waited for the red curtain to rise and the show to begin. There would be no opening act tonight, as per theater custom. No tease. It was straight to the main course.

Footsteps sounded out from behind the curtain as someone made their way towards center stage with confident strides that had the owner's finely made shoes tapping against the stage rhythmically. When they finally reached their destination, the red curtain raised on cue and ascended out of sight, revealing a man standing on the stage.

He stood tall in a crisp cut tuxedo, pressed neat and meticulously tailored with a grey waistcoat and deep green accents on his necktie and top hat. His broad shoulders were cocked back and his spine erect with ramrod precision; a showman's stance with his mouth curved on one side in measured delight. His forest green eyes scanned the crowd before him. It was too dark to see beyond the first few rows, but he could tell he would be performing for a full house tonight. He could feel the thick anticipation wafting up from the seats below and the dozens of eyes that focused solely on him, waiting with bated breath for him to begin. Satisfaction bloomed deep in his chest at yet another sold-out show as his gaze flickered down at the sliver of the audience that he could see, where he insisted his guests of honor be seated.

Taking up the first two rows was a small group of children - orphans, as their ragged, secondhand clothing and dirty faces depicted. They stared up at him with barely restrained excitement at the treat they were given tonight, free of charge by the man standing on stage before them. He could tell that they had never been fortunate enough to spend a night at the theater, even more so playing audience to one of the most renowned magicians in all of England, and none of them could sit still in their seats, making the first two rows look like a hive of buzzing bees. The only exception was the young woman sitting in the last seat of the first row, with one legged crossed over the other and her hands resting neatly in her lap. Their caretaker for the evening, presumably.

The man turned his eyes forward, reaching up with a white gloved hand and removing his top hat. He had thick, earthy brown hair combed back in a formal style with mutton chop side burns and a charming, toothy smile that could only belong to someone destined to be on stage. He was in his element and it showed in every move that he made.

He greeted his audience with a polite bow, giving them another smile before straightening up and placing his hat back on his head.

"Though little reassurin' as it might be to start my introduction with an apology, I'm afraid it can't be helped. I've never been good with openings. Pure rubbish at them, really. So to avoid embarrassing myself anymore than I have to tonight, let us keep our introduction brief. I'm the Amazing Aster Bunnymund, the greatest magician this side of the pacific - if I were to be any less humble - and I would like to extend my gratitude to you all for joinin' me this evenin'."

His voice was smooth that tinged of an accent that wasn't ubiquitous to London, despite the not-so subtle attempt at using local jargon. He spoke as clear and formal as any well-rehearsed performer, but he couldn't hide the Australian twang that edged the corners of his words.

"Now that we've been properly acquainted, let us begin with the first trick of the evenin'." He removed his hat once more and reached inside it. As his hand rooted around the seemingly empty hat, he gave the crowd a nod. "I must warn you, though, it may not be as spectacular as the tricks followin', but it has always been a bit of a tradition for me to start my shows with it, and as we all know, tradition in theater should _never_ be taken lightly. I think we'll be temptin' fate quite enough this evenin', won't we ladies and gentlemen?"

A polite wave of laughter drifted through the crowd and Bunnymund smiled at his own joke, still rooting around in his hat, giving it the illusion that it was bottomless when he pushed his arm further inside than what the depth of the hat should have allowed. The move incited whispers from the audience. He kept that up for another few seconds before finally letting out an ' _aha!_ ' and slowly pulling his arm back out of the hat from where it was nearly buried up to his shoulder.

In his gloved hand he held a chicken egg. It was painted a pale green color with glittering blue fractals decorating its shelf. Bunnymund held it up high so the entirety of the audience could see it, slowly rotating the egg back and forth on display. When he was certain that the audience saw what he held, he brought the egg back closer to him and nodded towards the orchestra box down by the foot of the stage. At the cue a drum roll began to play, building suspense as Bunnymund waved his hand over the egg in a flashy, pure pantomime fashion to fuel the illusion that there was actually an element of hocus pocus behind the magic tricks.

He let the drum rattle away for a few more seconds before drawing a collective gasp of surprise from the audience by taking the painted egg and throwing it against the stage floor. It hit the stage with a loud pop, but instead of splattering yolk and translucent albumen over the stage and Bunnymund's shoes, a puff of blue smoke erupted from the impact spot and wafted up into the air, drawing another gasp from the audience as three blue butterflies suddenly appeared from the cloud, curling the smoke into wide curls with their delicate wings. They fluttered about in the air above the audience's heads and Bunnymund watched the orphans in the first row as they stared in awe.

The magician took off his hat again and held out his arms in a ta-da manner and the audience broke out in applause. He waited in patience until the clapping faded away and the audience settled again before putting his hat back on his head and straightening the labels of his jacket.

"Now that we have gotten that out of the way, we can begin," Bunnymund announced, gesturing to stage right. "Please give a warm welcome to my lovely assistant, Evangeline, who will be helpin' me graciously this evening."

Music began to play as a second spotlight beamed to life on stage right and an attractive, smiling woman stepped out from behind the curtain. She wore a sparkling green burlesque costume with green sequins and fishnet stockings. Her matching heels clicked against the hard wood of the stage and the beads on her corset and exposed garter belt shimmied with each step. She had striking blonde hair that was done up in a big, curly updo atop her head with a tiny green top hat and feather nestled within the curls. The audience applauded her entry with excited clapping and whistling from the gentlemen.

The second spotlight followed her as she made her way across the stage. From her gloved arms she had five large silver rings hanging; three on one arm and two on the other. She walked over to Bunnymund with a deliberate sway of her hips and handed the rings over one by one to the magician, all the while smiling big. Bunnymund gave her a nod and she stepped back and off to the side, posing in a way that flattered her curvy figure and holding her arms out towards Bunnymund in presentation.

The Aussie juggled the rings a few times in elaborate maneuvers, expertly handling them back and forth until he finally had all five rings linked together. He held them out in front of him like a chain and smiled.

"Now, could I please have a volunteer from the audience?"

~O~

Aster let out a sigh at a job well done as he entered his dressing room, pushing the door of the modest sized room closed with the heel of his shoe. The noise from the outside hallway where the stage crew moved about was cut off in an instant, leaving a faint ringing in his ears from the sudden quiet. He made his way over to the chipped vanity table on the other side of the room where the mirror lights shined bright and he replayed the events of the night over in his head, satisfied that it had gone off without a hitch. Admittedly, he had been nervous about tonight, more so than usual, but it couldn't have gone better.

The audience had been a right lively one, despite the disparaging area most of them hailed from. It was no secret to anybody that the East End was the filthy underbelly of London. Aster had been truly appalled by the conditions in which these people lived when he first rode into town through the East End, especially the children. They littered the streets like stray cats, playing hopscotch and skipping rope in the gutters. The Aussie was originally set to do five shows in London during his stay, all of which were booked for Her Majesty's Theatre, if you could believe that, but it took only one stroll through the local slums for Aster to seek out a sixth show in a more affordable venue where the less fortunate could attend. Aster himself knew what it was like to live on the bottom looking up and was never above doing shows for charity. The East End seemed to have an abundance of orphans and it made the magician's heart ache, earning them a front row seat to his final show.

It had been uplifting to invite the little tikes on stage to assist him with a trick and watching their faces light up with glee, as if they had never known such joy before. It didn't bare thinking about how they probably hadn't.

A knock on his dressing room door pulled Aster out of his thoughts.

"Come in," he called, more focused on untying his bow tie than anything else. He hated wearing them, they always itched after being on stage.

He was expecting his stage manager, Hugh, to come through the door to relay the profits of their show with the ticket sales as if they all didn't already know it was a roaring success, if that final applause and demand for an encore from the audience was anything to go by. It was a bit of a routine for them at this point, no matter how the show turned out. Only, when he looked up through the mirror, it wasn't Hugh knocking at his door. Instead a young woman filled the doorway of his dressing room.

She was a skinny thing, with dark hair cut in short choppy locks that framed a shockingly pale, but delicate, face with sharp features and green eyes. He pegged her as an audience member and an East End occupant immediately with her state of dress. Ragged clothing that consisted of a black skirt and stockings, a striped blouse and a tattered apron. Aster vaguely recognized her as the young woman seated in the front row with the orphans. He raised an eyebrow at her through the mirror.

"Who are you?" he asked, as good a place to start as any.

"An admirer," the young woman replied, still standing near the doorway where the lighting wasn't as good, making her appearance look more dull and sickly.

He gave her a dubious look. "Is that right?"

"I caught your show."

She spoke with a standard English accent, confirming his theories on her being local.

"I remember. You were sitting with the orphans," he said. "How in the 'ell did you get all the way backstage to my dressin' room, darlin'?"

"It wasn't difficult. Nobody ever pays me much mind, not even on restricted ground."

He sniffed. "Suppose I should 'ave a talk with my security, then."

"You suppose correctly. Any lunatic could wander in off the streets and cause mayhem among your stage crew if they looked nonchalant enough."

"Lunatics? I don't see how far that would get 'em. Ain't nothin' my crew couldn't handle on their own, but thank you for the concern, Sheila." His accent wasn't as reeled in, now that he wasn't on stage. "Are you here from the papers?"

She shook her head. "No, I'm not from the papers."

He narrowed his eyes at her, regarding her more closely. His eyes bore straight into hers, seeking out any ill intentions that may be lurking in her sharp, unwavering stare. She held his gaze just as strong as he held hers and in the back of his mind, Aster felt a twinge of amusement, impressed by the way the girl was handling herself. On the surface she was entirely unassuming, but Aster based his life around the art of deceit and the follies of the other's observational skills. He didn't get where he was today by accepting strangers at face value.

"So what can I do for you then, Miss?"

"I want to be part of your show," The girl replied in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. It wasn't a question or a request. She stated it as if it was a given fact, a job offer that was already guaranteed before she even knocked on his door.

Aster looked her up and down again, taking in her downtrodden appearance while untying his bow tie.

It wasn't an entirely unusual thing to be approached for, especially after a successful show. He had women like her come up to him before, asking to be apart of his show so they could learn how the tricks were done. Most of it was a poorly constructed guise, one that Aster could easily see through without them even opening their mouths. Some were honest about learning how the tricks were done, in which case Aster always politely declined, but most of them were just attention seekers, young women looking for an opportunity so they could be on stage in front of an audience and experience their fifteen minutes of fame (' _Being in the limelight isn't always what it's cracked up to be, Miss'_ ). Or even worse, they were sent as spies by his competition to steal his secrets and improve their own shows (' _Tell that bloody Maskelyne he can have the prestige to my dagger box when he fights me in hell for it!'_ ). Or slightly not as worse, propositioning him for a private, not-so family friendly encore (' _I'm flattered, Darlin', really, but magic is my lady love and I ain't nothing if not faithful'_ ).

Admittedly, Aster was having trouble pinning the dark-haired girl down into one of those first two categories (he ruled out the third one immediately. Those women were rarely this straightforward. Poor attempt at seduction). He noticed that there was no grey area with her. She was either the most blunt, honest person he had ever met, or the greatest liar he had ever had the misfortune of encountering. And it was amazing that she had him thinking that only after just meeting.

"Sorry Sheila, 'fraid I already got an assistant," he eventually replied, deciding to not take the bait. "Magic is a tough business to be in and a slight thing like you wouldn't be able to keep up."

She glared at him and he couldn't help but chuckle at such a small thing trying to appear so big. He turned back towards the mirror and reached up to pull away his green bow tie, waving at her flippantly.

"And besides, you're not the right type. The pretty assistant is a big part of the show, almost as big as the magician themselves. They contribute more to the act than most people give them credit for. It's important they appeal to the crowd and the crowd usually prefers blondes."

"Yes, I'm already aware of their purpose. They help with the misdirection of the magic tricks. Magicians use their assistant's beauty and sex appeal to distract the audience from paying closer attention to the magician while he's performing his act, giving him the advantage of misdirection. They prefer blondes in sequined costumes because the stage lights reflect off their hair and clothing, making it difficult to look away from their "angelic" beauty as they sparkle like a Christmas tree over decorated with tinsel, especially during the more critical parts of the trick where the magician needs the attention to be off himself, which is why the assistant tends to move about the stage more during those moments. The need for the assistant is similar to the need for the planted audience member. You work hard to make your shows give off a feeling of spontaneity and suspense to enthrall your audience and make them believe what they are seeing is true magic as it is generally portrayed, but the reality of it is that every single aspect of your show is meticulously planned out and thoroughly rehearsed long before you even open the ticket booths."

"See you've done your homework," Aster looked up at her through the mirror, trying hard to look annoyed by her impressive knowledge of what goes on behind the red curtain at a magic show. "So, why are you here then?"

"I want to be in your show, but not as your assistant. I want to be your protege."

"What?" he breathed with a disbelieving laugh.

"Teach me how to sell a show," she said, stepping forward for the first time since entering his dressing room. Her green eyes lit up with determination, almost startling the man with their intensity. "Teach me how to amaze an audience. Teach me how to be a magician. I don't want to be a dolled up showgirl in a tight, revealing costume. I don't want to be a faceless stagehand or a lackey that mends your shirts and shines your shoes, and brings you tea and cakes. I want to be up there, on the stage, performing the tricks."

Aster put down the comb he had been running through his thick hair and exhaled heavily through his nose. He looked up at her through the mirror one last time before turning on his stool, doing a complete turn and pushing up on to his feet in one, graceful move. He gave the girl an apologetic look as he put on his more stern face and prepared to give his "real-talk" response. The same one he gave every bright-eyed youth that came to him with the same request. He slipped his hands into his trouser pockets and let his shoulder loosen in a more honest stance. Taking a few steps closer to her, Aster absently noted how short she was compared to him. Compared to other women her age, even. It was obvious from her sharp gaze and assertive way that she wanted to be taken seriously, but Aster found it difficult to do so. Nearly past her adolescent years, she was still just a child, no matter how much she wanted to pretend otherwise.

"Look, I admire your ambition, Miss, I really do, but the magic business is a man's playin' field. Much like everythin' else. You do know that, right?"

"Yes, I do," she nodded. "Which is why it would be such a novel idea. As my late father would say, we live in a progressive world, Mr. Bunnymund. The train of change is a formidable force and runs on no fixed scheduled. Magic is already such a versatile field, filled with wonder and innovation. Why not add to that with just a simple change in the status quo?"

Again Aster had to hide how impressed he was. Everything aside, the girl knew how to make a compelling argument. If her request weren't so ludicrous, he might have given it a second thought. He did his best to placate her, because really, he didn't actually enjoy turning people away who seemed to have a passion for magic akin to his own. It was always nice to know when one was among a kindred spirit. But there simply wasn't any place for this girl. Not in his show, at least.

"Don't get me wrong, a woman magician in this day and age, in this city, I think it's a wonderful idea. I'm all for equality, but I'm not the one you have ta sell the tickets to."

"What have you got to lose? Everybody loves you, knows your name. You can do no wrong in their eyes."

Aster stifled a frustrated groan. Again with the valid arguments. "Look, Miss-"

"Alice," she cut him off, forcibly shoving her identity into relevance, same as she did with this entire conversation. "Alice Liddell."

"Okay, _Alice_ ," he replied. "Like I said, magic isn't a business you'll be wantin' to go into. When a man pulls a rabbit out of a hat, people clap and cheer. When a woman does it, people cry witch."

She cocked a slim eyebrow at him. "What are they going to do? Burn me at the stake? Please, we have come much further than that as a civilized society, have we not?"

Aster let out a snort, turning away from the woman and walking over to a nearby tea trolley. "Wouldn't put it past 'em, honestly. Stick a bunch of people in a dark room and start doin' things they don't understand and you'll get all kinds of responses. You know what they say, a _person_ is smart, but _people_ are stupid. Sometimes even I get a bad reception during shows, but the difference between me and you is that I'm much less approachable in a dark alley."

"Mm, quite."

The fragile china teapot sat poised atop the silver trolley in the midst of a platter of biscuits and finger sandwiches. Aster ignored the food in favor of reaching for a teacup. He could feel the warmth of the hot tea radiating off the teapot as he grabbed the handle and poured himself a cup. There was an extra teacup on the trolley and he gave it a cursory glance, wondering how much longer it would extend the young woman's stay if he offered her some.

"Tea?" he asked, the need to be polite outweighing the desire to be dismissive. Aussies weren't quite as rule-bound and courteous as the chummy Brits, with their mild mannered nature and tendencies to avoid the awkward and undesirable in conversation like the plague, but even Aster wouldn't turn his nose up at being a decent human being. They weren't the French, after all. Or, lord forbid, the Americans.

"No thank you," she declined.

"Suit yourself," he mumbled as he fixed his cup how he liked it.

Part of him wished the trolley came stocked with something stronger. He contemplated excusing himself from the room to find something with alcohol in it, knowing he might need it to get through the rest of this conversation, but he had a feeling the woman would just follow him.

"Alright," he spoke up after taking a long sip, deciding to change tactics. "Hypothetically speakin', what if I did allow you to be a part of my show? Do you even know what that means? Have you ever been on stage in front of a crowd before? You don't strike me as a keen people person. Have you ever been out of London before? England, even?"

"No, not really," she replied, hesitantly. "While I've never been on stage during a performance, I've been employed doing odd jobs around this very theater, cleaning and the like. And I've always wanted to travel. Leaving England wouldn't bother me at all. It's not like I'll be leaving anything sentimental behind."

"What about the orphans? Can you really just up and leave 'em like that?"

"I'm afraid the head of our orphanage, Dr. Bumby, has had a rather unfortunate railroad accident and the solicitor has ordered the shut down of the orphanage. The orphans are going to be sent to the countryside, to a much better orphanage where they can hopefully get the help they need to survive in this cruel, twisted world. Rest assured, they will be taken care of. I, however, am not so lucky. The orphanage is my sole place of residency and income. Without it, I am homeless with no prospects."

The magician looked at her in shock, remaining silent as he processed this new information.

' _Well buggar_ ,' Aster thought. ' _Game changer. Should have seen that coming._ '

Turning away a privileged looky-loo was one thing, but turning away someone facing homelessness was entirely different. Of course Aster could tell just by looking at Alice that she wasn't privileged, but he had assumed her situation was more stable. How in the hell was he supposed to address this now? He was new in town, but he wasn't stupid or blind. He knew where women like Alice ended up when they found themselves with no money, no food and no roof over their heads. He had seen the victims of those circumstances prowling the streets when he first entered the East End, scarcely dressed with empty looks in their eyes as they beckoned any man who ventured too close into following them into the nearest alley.

Aster couldn't condemn the young woman to such a fate. He sighed again, realizing he had been backed into a rather small corner. If he weren't so prideful, he would have congratulated Miss Liddell on a proposition well negotiated. He hadn't been apart of a debate this engaging since his time spent in the circus working under that ruddy Cossack who knew no bounds when pressing the magician's many buttons. As it were though, he was a bit of sore loser when it came to these things, so instead of acknowledging the young woman's exceptional wit, he just gave her an exhausted look.

"Alright, you got me. I can give you a job workin' as a stagehand. It won't be glamorous, but you'll have a roof over your head, and _maybe_ you can work your way up to somethin' better. But what I said still stands. I'm not looking for a protege right now and there's nothin' you can say or do that'll change my mind. That's the best I'm going to offer. Take it or leave it, Missy."

Alice didn't respond. She only looked off to the side and brought up a finger to rub absently across her lips as she thought over what he had said. Weighing her options, no doubt. Trying to decide if being a lowly stagehand would serve her better than trying her luck here in London. Aster had no preference either way. If she declined, then that would be one less person to train and one less pocket to line. If she accepted...well, he couldn't deny that having a young person around with an actual brain in their noggin would be a nice change of pace. Again, unlike the circus that allowed any wayward youth to scamper in from the rain like an aimless mutt.

"If you're interested in the job, go find Hugh the stage manager and leave your information with him. You'll get a telegram in a couple of days when we're ready to ship out."

With nothing else, Aster moved around the girl again and made his way towards the wardrobe where he began to strip off his vest and unbutton his dress shirt. He was still acutely aware of his guest lingering by the door, but he was now determined to ignore her until she left. There wasn't much else he could do other than call security to escort Alice out. However, he didn't think it would be necessary. He hoped she would get the picture soon and depart on her own.

"If I tell you how your trick was done, will you accept me as your protege?"

Her quiet voice made him pause in his movements. He threw her an annoyed look over his shoulder before turning back to his wardrobe and reaching inside for a hanger. He knew he shouldn't let the woman bait him further, but he found himself responding anyways.

"Which trick?"

"Your favorite one," she replied. "The one with the painted egg and the butterfly. I can tell you favor it. It is such a simple trick with hardly any flare behind it, and yet, as I have read, you insist on opening with it during every one of your shows."

"Read where?"

"In the papers. I have read all the interviews with you that have been printed. I was not fibbing when I said I was an admirer."

Aster gave her a dubious look. He reached down into his pocket and pulled out the painted egg, looking down at it with a fond smile as a wave of nostalgia washed over him.

"You're right. It is my favorite. It was the first trick I ever made up on my own. Well, my first successful trick, that is. I've never told anyone the prestige of it. Never. And nobody's ever figured it out - and a lot of people have tried."

"I have," Alice declared. "If I tell you how it was done, will you take me on as your student?"

Aster pursed his lips, seriously considering the girl for the first time that night. She had spunk, he would give her that much, and she did seem to know what she was talking about. At least, on a novice level. It wouldn't be so bad to let her have a quick guess. People came up to him all the time claiming that they had figured out the secrets behind his tricks and he always had a good laugh at their responses. Granted, none of those gumbies had anything on Alice in regards to confidence. The look on her face told Aster that she was entirely serious about having figured out his favorite trick.

Deciding to humor the poor girl, he tossed the egg her way. She caught it.

"Sure, Half-pint. Knock yourself out."

"If I am correct, do you promise to take me on?" Alice asked, twisting the egg in her hands.

"Cross my heart," he replied, gesturing across his chest. "Go on and impress me."

* * *

 **AN: I hope you guys enjoyed this. I have about three parts planned for this little AU. There won't be very much build up to this story since it's so short, so Jack will make an appearance next chapter. I usually like to get most of the exposition out of the way immediately, but for this story I'll be feeding background info as I go. Make sure to show your love and support by leaving a review so I know that you guys want to see more!**

 **If you see any mistakes in the content, let me know in a review and I'll fix it. Thanks!**

 **~Scorpiofreak~**


End file.
